


Five Lifetimes

by Crollalanza



Series: Sports Fest 2018 Haikyuu!! [27]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, M/M, Reincarnation, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 18:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: Five cities and five different eras where Iwaizumi Hajime has met Oikawa Tooru.





	Five Lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this was: "Ohhh... I wish I could live life 5 times over! Then, I'd be born in 5 different cities, I'd stuff myself full with different delicious things 5 times each, I'd have 5 different jobs.. And then for those 5 times... I'd fall in love with the same person."
> 
> I'm not big into the soulmate theory, but I like the idea of soulbonds and interlinked lives throughout the ages.

**Troy**

For Hector’s ransom, a young girl drops her heavy gold earrings onto the scales, tipping the balance in Priam’s favour.  Polyxena’s offering draws the eye of everyone, even his Prince, but Hajime’s eyes flit to the boy beside her, holding her hand as she tosses her gift.

“Who’s that boy?” he asks.

“One of Priam’s runts, Prince Tooru. We’ll slaughter them all before this war is done,” Achilles seethes.

A year later, when they besiege the castle, Neoptolemus grabs Polyxena by the wrist and slaughters her in honour of his father. Hajime finds her companion—her brother—cowering in a corner, overwhelmed by the brutality of the enemy and a war he’s played no part in.

Hajime stares down at him, watches as his eyes flick in terror and defiance. They’re the same age. Boy soldiers. Enemies. 

“Hajime,” the boy whispers.

“You know me?”

“I did.” His mouth twists into a smile. “A lifetime ago.”

Startled, Hajime’s sword clatters to the ground, and the boy could have picked it up right then and stabbed him through the heart, but he stays on the floor, staring up at him.

“Get out now. Disguise yourself as a girl,” he bends down and smears some dirt on the boy’s face. “A servant not a princess.”

“Thank you.” He struggles to his feet, grabbing a cloth which he uses to cover his head, and scrabbles out of the room. His voice echoes back through the stone corridor. “I knew you’d save me, Hajime.”

 

**Florence**

The man who’d flounced into Hajime’s studio was possibly the most annoying person Hajime had ever met. Not only did he have an irritating habit of flicking his hair, but he would not stop talking.

“Look,” Hajime seethed. “I’m paying you to be my model, but you’ll get nothing if you can’t fucking keep still!”

“You’re always so bad tempered,” the model replied.

“How do you know that?”

“Ah, Hajime, one day, you’ll remember,” the model replied. “Now, where do you want me?”

“Lie down over there, will you?”

With a nod, the model sauntered across to the corner of the room, stripped and draped himself on the sofa. As he posed, he became remarkably still, allowing Hajime to adjust his position, tilt his face at a different angle.  The light trickled through the window, highlighting not just the planes of his face, but the jut of his hips, and the breadth of his chest.

Beautiful.

“What are you painting?” the model asked.

“Achilles sulking in his tent,” Hajime replied.

“Oh…” He smiled, more to himself than to Hajime. “Then I hope you’ll you be my Patroclus.”

 

**Melbourne**

Weary beyond any measure, Hajime crawled into daylight, every muscle in his body protesting its existence. The rockfall had been swift, the mine shaft collapsing and sending many of his colleagues to a dusty grave. It had been a miracle he’d escaped, but he was aware he’d used up his luck.

Someone crouched by him, offering a billycan. “Water?” 

He accepted, gulped at it, and meaning to glance at the girl sitting next to him found he was unable to tear his eyes away. “Thank you.”

She was finely dressed, with light brown hair tied in a bow behind her neck and unmarked by the dirt and grime of everyone around him.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“What for?” he croaked.

Hugging her knees to her chest, the girl’s voice took on a determined tone. “My father owns the mine.” She stared at the devastation around them, at the barely alive men being pulled from the rubble and dragged to tents which offered some shade from the relentless sun. “This is all so wrong.”

“Gold is more important than lives,” Hajime said bitterly.

“Something has to change,” she replied and held out her hand. “I knew that as soon as I saw you, Hajime.”

 

**Rio de Janeiro**

Hajime was not a good dancer. In a city whose heart pulsed to the salsa beat, Hajime was flatfooted. She loved carnival though, loved the thrum of the city, but only if she could be an onlooker and not a participant.

Wearing a new red dress, black mantilla and heavy gold earrings, she came to a halt when they reached the main square, and before she knew it, someone had thrust her forwards through the crowd. 

A masked dancer, his red jacket fringed with gold, stood in the centre, span around and beckoned her forward.

With a scowl, Hajime refused, and tried to slink back into the throng of people. But the man strode across, grabbed her hand, and pulled her close. Taller, but not by much, the dancer held Hajime close, then released her to arms' length and spiralled around her.

 “I can’t dance,” she insisted.

“Oh, Hajime,” the dancer murmured. “You can do anything when you’re with me.”

“Do I know you?” she demanded and peered closer, but this boy had far too much grace to be anyone she was familiar with.

The dancer laughed. “You have done and you will do.”

The beat picked up, a bass thundering as loud as Hajime’s heart as she was pressed against the man’s body.

“What do you mean?”

“Together we’ve seen Kings fall and cities burn. Created works of art and started a rebellion.” He touched one of Hajime’s earrings.  “You saved me from a plunderer’s sword and I quenched your thirst…” Laughing, his hand smoothed across her back. “In more ways than one.”

“But who are you?”

“Oikawa Tooru,” the dancer whispered. “Remember that, eh?”

 

**Sendai**

The new boy in his class is the most annoying Hajime has ever met. He has stupid flicky hair, a stupid smile, a stupid, stupid alien t shirt and he thinks Godzilla is dumb.

Unfortunately they have to sit together because the teacher says so.

“I want the green crayon!” Hajime snarls. “Godzilla is green!”

“Well, so do I,” the boy says, and pouts a little. “Martians are green too.”

“They’re not real. You can make them purple with pink spots.”

“They are!” He stamps his foot, grabs at the crayon trying to force it from Hajime’s hand and scowls. “Give me the crayon!”

“NO! I HAD IT FIRST!”

“AND I NEED IT!”

The crayon snaps, almost exactly in half, and to Hajime’s surprise the boy giggles. “We don’t have to share now, Hajime.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Hmm…” He tilts his head to the side. “I could say that I’ve known you for centuries.”

“Huh?”

“Sensei told me,” the boy amends, and smiled. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

“I know…” Trailing off, Hajime buries his confusion in his paper, colouring Godzilla so furiously he goes over the lines several times.

Oikawa Tooru? He’s sure he’s never met the boy, but his name is so familiar.


End file.
